


Lamb of God

by forgetmenotjimmy



Series: Doing House [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Episode: s02e24 No Reason, Fantasy, Hurt No Comfort, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: Chase should have taken the bullet. The world would have been better if he’d been injured, or even died, instead. House was brilliant: he saved the people no other doctor could. What was Chase?Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant us peace.





	Lamb of God

**Author's Note:**

> Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.  
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.  
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant us peace.  
\- Agnus Dei Litany

_I should have done something_. The thought came as soon as the surgeons took over and House disappeared behind those doors. Chase was panting with exertion and adrenaline, glancing at the others and seeing corresponding looks of shock. Cuddy came out of the prep room and eyed them, barely concealing her own shock. She told them to take the rest of the day off, though only after the police had taken their statements. They washed the blood off their hands in the nearest bathroom. Chase’s hands were shaking under the spray and he stared at them, throat dry. A hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up to see Foreman looking at him grimly, jaw set even as his eyes were a little wider than normal. Chase gathered himself and followed the man out.

As he retells what happened for the third time to yet another detective, the image of him pushing House out of the way pops into his head. He stumbles over his words, the detective mistaking it for shock. Chase coughs and forces his mind to concentrate on what had actually happened.

Once their duty as useless witnesses is done, none of them leave, instead they haunt the waiting room; Chase thinking of some of the relatives of their patients, how they’d looked, how he must look. Wilson joins them, Cuddy flitting in and out as she liaises with the police and the lawyers. Finally, the surgeon comes out and tells them that House is out of the woods. There is some breathless, slightly-manic laughter shared between the fellows before they drag themselves home.

That night Chase laid in bed and pictured the scene, only this time he was standing a foot away from House, not across the room. The gunman says he was a patient and as he reaches into his jacket Chase realizes his intention, quickly shoving House down as the bang of the gun deafens them. Security comes running, subduing the crazy ex-patient; House stares at Chase in surprise and with something else lingering in his eyes. Chase coughs awkwardly and climbs off House, offering him a hand. House takes it but lets go quickly, embarrassed, and picking up his cane himself. Cameron fusses over them both, Foreman giggling a little incredulously and Houses shakes them both off. Cuddy and Wilson come in and among the flurry of activity, House visibly collects himself and avoids Chase’s eyes. Chase doesn’t mind though; he knows the gratitude is there.

It’s something he thinks about a lot as House recovers. House hates sympathy but he does want distraction from lying in bed all day so Chase is allowed in if he brings something – a game or mini-TV or an interesting case. Chase makes sure to never show any guilt or pity or any emotion if he can help it. If House appreciates it, he doesn’t mention it. Then again, if he took issue with Chase, he wouldn’t let him in, so that said something in itself. Chase really enjoys it: the quiet moments neither of them are mocking or being mocked, just sharing space and breath.

Later though, when Chase is alone, he imagines pushing House out of the way, of scrambling to cover him as the gunman advances, pissed off and ready to take another shot. Chase would raise a shaking hand and stare down the barrel and refuse to get out of the way. Maybe his voice would waver, but his resolve wouldn’t. He imagines the second bullet ripping through him, lodging in a rib or piercing his heart or maybe being sent through his brain. Sometimes he thinks he would have preferred it.

It’s not all about House. Chase’s mother had been bipolar and his father had made him get assessed after her death, after his stint living on the streets of Melbourne high off his ass on anything he could get. At the time, the doctor had diagnosed him with depression, duh, his mother had died and his father was AWOL. He’d taken the pills and gone to the seminary and supposedly God had cured him of any sinful thoughts. Neither of them ever been brought up again, even after Chase realized that he was depressed in med school.

Well, a lot of the students were, depression and anxiety were common in high-pressure situations and Chases suspected most had self-diagnosed or diagnosed their friends with some kind of mental disorder or another. Chase didn’t have any close friends, but he had people he was friendly with, people he would study with, stay up late in the library with, go out clubbing with, some he hooked up with casually. He wasn’t exactly alone, even if he felt like it.

His life after medical school had followed the same pattern. Chase knew enough people to pretend he was happy, enough people he spent time with to ignore the aching pit inside him. Most of the time he could ignore it, got so used to it that he didn’t notice it. Until something happened to upset the fragile balance, to upend all the carefully stacked insecurities and anxieties in the corners of Chase’s mind.

House was on a long road to recovery, might be in even more pain than before and Chase could have done something. He _should_ have done something. He should have taken the bullet. The world would have been better if he’d been injured, or even died, instead. House was brilliant, no one could match his intellect, his drive for answers that had saved countless lives. He saved the people no other doctor could. What was Chase? One of his lackeys, a workhorse used to collect data for the genius to put together. Easily replaceable and probably one day soon he would be.

Those weeks without House was hard on all of the team, though Chase worked hard to try and hide his struggle. Cameron once accused him of being heartless. The little boy who only wanted to play with the other children was hurt, but the bigger, wiser part of him was relieved.

Once or twice his fantasies involved a romantic gesture: either a desperate kiss on his part, so relieved House is alive that adrenaline shoves him forward and onto House’s lips or a ginger touch over his face as he dies, House’s eyes soft with regret and sadness. Chase is self-aware enough to know that these additions are further proof of his fucked-up head, but he can’t find it within himself to stop them when they rise up unbidden. He’s earned the right to clutch a pillow and imagine a moment of intimacy with the man he’s so painfully drawn to, the person who holds him at arms’ length and yet seems to understand him more than anyone else on the planet.

House came back and was up and down for a while. Things settled again, with him pretty much returning to normal. It was disappointing that he hadn’t kept up his progress, but that had been outside of Chase’s control. Part of him, the most logical part, pointed out that had he sacrificed himself that nothing would have changed. House would still be a miserable, crotchety genius and Chase would have gotten killed for nothing. _Except that he might have thought of you fondly, from time to time. _Maybe Wilson or Cuddy or Cameron would have been thankful for his existence. People would have come to his funeral, maybe his name would have been in the paper, Cameron would have probably cried and Foreman might have felt bad about dismissing him so many times. Maybe he would have mattered for a few weeks until people moved on. Maybe…

Tritter happens and Chase gets sucker punched. He childishly complains that he got the answer right and still got punished, still didn’t get any recognition. Almost like he missed his chance to do something incredible and now he’s doomed to shill out a mediocre existence in House’s so-bright-it-burns-you presence. He hears House’s voice in his head sometimes.

_Don’t worry, if anything happens to you, nobody’s going to lift a finger._

**Author's Note:**

> Super bummer I know! It's just Chase is kind of a depressive guy and I can't seem to stop writing about it. I will eventually write a happier one of these...  
Unbeat'd so let me know if you spot anything!  
Thanks for reading.  
:D


End file.
